Lady Lucy's Lover by M.C. Beaton Page A

and gave orders to be barbered and his clothes laid out. Word was to be sent to the stables to have his traveling carriage made in readiness. Word was to be sent to Lady Standish’s residence with instructions to her lady’s maid to present herself at the Duke’s with her mistress’s trunks.
    Now I have done it, he thought, noticing the shocked look on his valet’s face.
    He made a leisurely toilet and descended to the morning room an hour later to find the Marchioness of Standish fast asleep by the fire. He had passed Lady Standish’s grim-faced and weary lady’s maid who was sitting sentinel in the hall beside several corded trunks. He had ordered his butler to supply the maid with tea and to see that the baggage was strapped onto his carriage along with his own trunks.
    He stood looking down at Lucy as she sat asleep in a winged chair. She had taken her hat off and her small face was tilted back against one of the wings. She looked little more than a child.
    As if aware of his gaze, her eyes flew open and she stared up at him, first in bewilderment and then in dawning comprehension.
    â€œI had to come,” she said faintly. “He does not love me. He said… he said my parents had
paid
him to marry me.”
    â€œIt is not unusual,” he said calmly. “You will breakfast. I have sent for your maid and your clothes.”
    â€œYou mean… I will live here with you?”
    â€œNo. Nothing so blatant. You are coming to the country with me… to my home.”
    â€œOh,” said Lucy weakly.
    â€œWe do not want to give your husband outright grounds for divorce and so it will all be very respectable. My mother, the Dowager Duchess of Habard, is in residence.”
    â€œWhat will she think…?”
    â€œWhat she wishes. It need not concern us.”
    Lucy was still too tired and hurt and emotionally buffeted to protest.
    When they left, a thin brown rain was falling from a low brown sky.
    â€œWhere do you live?” asked Lucy sleepily.
    â€œMullford Hall in Essex. It is not a very long journey so we will not have to spend the night anywhere.”
    Lucy’s lady’s maid, Harper, sat grimly opposite, holding my lady’s jewel box on her lap and trying to keep the disapproval she felt at these strange goings-on from showing on her face.
    The matter of Lucy’s marriage could not be discussed in the presence of the maid, and after a little while, Lucy fell fast asleep, only awakening when they stopped for luncheon.
    Dusk came early on that dismal day and the carriage lamps had been lit as they finally turned in at the great gates of Mullford Hall.
    â€œIs your mama expecting me?” asked Lucy, becoming nervous despite her fatigue.
    â€œNo. It will be a surprise.”
    â€œI would rather she had been prepared,” said Lucy in a small voice.
    â€œWell, that was not possible since I was not prepared myself,” said the Duke equably.
    Lucy fell silent, rubbing at the steamy glass of the carriage and trying to see out the windows through the gathering twilight.
    â€œIt looks very big… the park, I mean,” she ventured at last.
    He nodded and seemed absorbed in his thoughts.
    Finally the carriage rattled to a stop and Lucy was helped down and stood looking up at the great pile that was Mullford Hall.
    The house was Palladian in principle, consisting of a central oval building surmounted by a dome joined to two rectangular pavilions by curving wings.
    â€œThe west pavilion has not been completed,” said the Duke. “We use the east, and the central building is reserved for guests. Since you are our only guest, you will share the family wing.”
    Lucy was led off by the housekeeper down a long corridor lined with statues and glass cases containing priceless china over to the east wing.
    Her rooms were tasteful and cool with high ceilings, Adam fireplaces, and pastel walls. No sounds penetrated from the world